


Logic

by LunaEclipse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaEclipse/pseuds/LunaEclipse
Summary: He counted every second of every day, in his head was a never-ending clock, always adding another second. Every part of his day was scheduled down to the minute. He had a very strict routine that he never deviated from. Logic was the only thing that kept him from becoming a madman.Until his schedule was disrupted, and his clock lost count.
Kudos: 7





	Logic

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place before Thor Dark World. Might be slightly cannon divergent. I've been improving on my writing lately, and this should hopefully show that. I have a vague outline of where I want to take this, but as of now any pairings or any other characters are to be determined. If you have anyone you want to see included in this story, leave a comment and let me know!
> 
> This is just an short introduction chapter, but normally I will be posting a chapter a week at a minimum of 2000 words a chapter, and I'm aiming for about 20-25 chapters. 
> 
> Let me know of any mistakes you find. 
> 
> Updates every Wednesday

Fifteen paces to the wall

Turn

Another eight paces

Turn

Fifteen

Eight

Fifteen

Eight

Fifteen

Eight

One lap was forty-six paces. Two fifteens and two eights. It took approximately one minute and thirteen seconds to complete, depending on how fast he went.

Fifteen

Eight

Fifteen

Eight

Fifte-

 _Shink_

Dinner.

Dinner was served four hours and thirty-five minutes after lunch. Lunch was served five hours and ten minutes after breakfast. Breakfast was served one hour and fifteen minutes after waking up.

Dinner was served on a metal tray, slid into his cell from a small hole that opened from the magical barrier that kept him from the outside world. Tonight's meal consisted of a thin piece of mutton, a stale roll of bread, limp collard greens, and a pitcher of water. No dessert. Rejects from the royal kitchens.

Food fit for a prisoner.

He'd used to eat better, before. All the fruit one could want, paired with the best cuts of meat gold could buy. Now here he was, in his small cell, reduced to eating table scraps like a dog.

It could be worse.

He finished his food. His plate was taken. Dinner was two hours and fifty minutes before the lights of the prison would dim.

He took a seat in the arm chair, that was near the front of his cell. Logically, he knew it could be much worse. He had a cell all to himself, and in it was a bed, a chair, a book, and a table. He was allowed to shower privately, and he was allowed silver and china when he ate. He had it luxurious, compared to the other prisoners, who were forced to share a cell with up to fifteen others, and who had no furniture and, had to eat with their hands, and sleep on the floor and stare at the wall for entertainment.

He picked up the book, and started to read. He had read this book four hundred and seventy-three times. He could recite it forwards, and backwards, and could list all of the chapters chronological and alphabetically. He would read it again. He would read until the lights dimmed and he could no longer see the words on the page. Then, he would sleep, and when the lights brightened in the morrow and he woke, he would do the same things all over again.

Wake, Stretch, Eat, Shower, Meditate, Eat, Pace, Eat, Read, Sleep, Repeat.

He had a schedule. He followed the same schedule everyday, no exceptions. His schedule allowed him to keep track of time, he could tell you exactly what time and day it was, and how long he'd been in this cell, down to the second. He'd memorized it all.

He closed his book and set it back on the table where it had been, and moved to stand by the bed. It had been one hour and forty-seven minutes since dinner. He would know, he had counted. He always counted, in the back of his mind was a never-ending clock. Always adding another second, another minute, another hour, another day. He counted, and he memorized, and he stuck to his schedule. He used logic, because it was the only thing he had.

His magic bound, his title stripped, thrown in a cell to be forgotten about.

He had nothing. Nothing except logic.

His clock counted, Four more seconds.

Three

Two

One.

The lights dimmed

He smiled

Right on schedule.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Sorry if it seems a bit confusing, that will all get cleared up in the next chapter hopefully. Let me know what you think. What you did like, what you didn't like, what questions you have, etc.
> 
> See you next Wednesday!


End file.
